Home Someday
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Season Nine. A lonely night. Kind of an experiment .
1. Chapter 1

The phone rings and I wait impatiently for Chandler to pick up, my foot bouncing on the bed.

"Hey," he answers, already knowing it's me.

"Hi honey," I say, my body instantly relaxing, a smile spreading across my face. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. Just living it up in the Sooner State. How are you?"

"I miss you," I tell him without hesitation.

"I miss you, too," he says softly. "Just another couple of days, though."

"Might as well be forever," I say sadly.

"Hey, what are you up to?" he jumps in, trying to distract me.

"Not much. Just lying on our bed. Naked."

I can practically hear him leap to attention over the phone lines. "Really?" His voice has already dropped an octave.

I scan my body, double checking. "Completely."

"Trying to kill me?"

"Just looking for some good, old-fashioned phone sex. Is that so wrong?"

"No no! It's good. Give me a second to catch up." I can hear the rustle of clothing on the other end of the line and I pull the phone away from my ear, putting it on speaker. I'll probably need both hands for this. "So, uh," he starts, his voice filling the room. "You come here often?"

"Probably don't need foreplay, honey," I tell him, skimming a hand down my torso.

"Fair enough. So…you want to do this manually, or do you have mechanical assistance?"

I chuckle at his choice of words. "Mechanical."

"Whatcha got?"

"The Rabbit," I tell him, grabbing the purple device off the bed next to me, holding it up to the light. It's not surprising guys find this thing intimidating. It certainly doesn't mimic the actions of any man I've known to exist.

Regardless, I hear his breath catch in Tulsa. "That's a good one." He clears his throat. He's always gotten a rush out of watching me do this, and even I have to admit that there's something really erotic about getting myself off in front of him.

"Tell me what you want me to do," I breathe.

"Don't turn it on yet, but rub yourself with it."

Immediately, I bring it down to my pelvis and gently slide it back and forth. It's a poor substitute for my husband, but at least I can hear his voice while I do this.

My breath hitches as it glides over my sensitive flesh. "That's right, baby," he whispers.

I try to focus on his voice, try to pretend his hands are on me—has it really been a little less than a week since we saw each other?

I turn my attention to the toy in my hand, ignoring the part of me that hates trying to live without my husband.

"What next?"

"Turn on the shaft, but not the vibrator."

"What?"

"You heard me. Lowest setting."

I sigh, but do as he says. The device starts to hum quietly against me and I shiver.

"Slowly—very, very slowly—put it inside of you."

I comply, shuddering as I feel the vibrations tingling my inner walls. I remind myself that we used to do this all the time back when we first started dating and were keeping it a secret.

I hear myself moan a little and take that as a good sign.

"Are you moving it?" Chandler's voice pipes up. "You need to move it. In and out, still slowly."

My hand obeys without any conscious effort on my part and I breathe deeply, finding myself turned on, imagining Chandler there on top of me. "Ohhhhhh," I moan, and I can hear him groan in response.

"That's it. Now, turn it up a notch."

My fingers fly blindly to the buttons on the device, turning it to the next setting, feeling it pulsate within me.

"How does that feel?"

"So good," I groan, my eyes sliding shut.

"Do that for a little while. Get yourself worked up."

I bite my lip and my hips start to move a little, matching the rhythm my husband is setting from a thousand miles away.

"Are you touching yourself?" I ask, my voice a little breathless.

"Of course, Mon. I'm all kinds of turned on right now. But what I need you to do now is turn it up again."

"Vibrator still off?"

"Yep. We're gonna wait for that part."

I groan—partly frustrated and partly aroused—but only turn up the speed on the shaft. My toes curl a bit.

"You're so hot—you know that?" he says in to m ear, and I can't help but smile a little; he's always said that to me It doesn't matter how I'm feeling about myself on any particular day—if 'm naked, he thinks I'm hot. Or sexy, or any of the other wonderful, sweet endearments he likes to throw at me. The best part is that I know he means it.

"More," I tell him, my breath coming in shorter gasps. "Please more."

"Turn it up again, and put the vibrator on two."

I press the buttons as quickly as I can, nearly flying off the bed when the vibrations kick in. "God!" I yell out, and I can hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the line. My free hand comes up and grabs at my hair, desperate to hold on to something.

"Touch yourself, baby. Grab your breasts."

I take a hold of myself and moan loudly. "This won't take much longer," I warn him, my chest heaving.

"Good," he groans. "Me either. Turn it up one more time."

I press the control, feeling the vibrations increase and I turn my face into Chandler's pillow, breathing in his smell as a yell rips out of me, my hips moving frantically against the device, my release bittersweet. I can hear him gasping on the other end of the line, and I feel my heart break.

For a few minutes, our bedroom is filled with heavy breathing as we both come back to reality.

"Monica…" I hear him whisper.

I realize the damn vibrator is still buzzing away happily. I pull it out of me, switching it off, before tossing it to the foot of the bed, still frustrated. I grab Chandler's pillow and bury my face in it, only slightly succeeding in muffling the sobs wracking through my body.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I just miss you so much," I choke out, pulling up a blanket and wrapping it around my body, suddenly cold.

I hear him sigh and can hear the rustle of sheets as he covers himself, too. "I know." His voice is so sad; my heart breaks just a little more. "This is horrible."

"I'm calling work in the morning and quitting," I say suddenly.

"What? Monica—"

"No, I don't care. No job is worth being away from you like this."

"This is your dream job, Monica," he reminds me.

"_You're_ my dream," I tell him, a fresh batch of tears streaming down my face. "You're the only thing that matters; not some stupid job or some stupid city. If we're not together, then what's the point?"

"Honey, I'm not letting you give up your dream for a job that I hate. I'll only be out here for a year at the most. What are you doing to do when we have to leave Tulsa and find another job?"

I remain silent for a while, sniffling. "Don't you want me out there with you?"

"More than anything," he answers instantly. "I hate being away from you. But you would be miserable out here, and then you'd resent me because you gave up a job you love to live in Nowhere, USA."

"I could never resent you," I whisper. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he says softly. "It really is hell being this far away from you. But, listen—we have less than a year before it's all over. We can do this, Monica. _You_ can do this. You're the strongest person I know."

"I'm not strong without you," I tell him, realizing that it's true. "I don't even know how to be just me anymore. We're Chandler and Monica—I don't know where you end and I begin. You're such a part of me that I…I…I don't know how to be without you. And I don't want to. You're my world."

I can hear his breath hitch on the other end of the line, and I know the distance is getting to him, too. "Mon…"

"We're so much better together than we are apart."

"I know."

"I can hardly sleep without you here," I blurt out.

"I can't sleep, either," he tells me. "At least you have our bed—I'm stuck in a stupid hotel with nothing around me that feels like you."

"I hold your pillow every night. It's the only thing that helps. And I sleep in your shirts."

"Is it wrong that I think the shirt-thing is kind of sexy?"

I let out a watery chuckle. "No, that's okay. Just please don't start sleeping in my shirts."

He laughs softly. "Deal." We're silent for a while, listening to each other breathe. "Look—if you decide you want to quit and come out here with me, I won't turn you away. In fact, I'll be pretty damn happy. But I don't want you do it on the spur of the moment. Think about it long and hard before making that choice, okay? This isn't something you should do because you're upset. And if you decide that Tulsa is what you really want to do, I'll support you all the way. But I think you'll regret it."

I sigh, knowing he's probably right. "I just miss you," I say again.

"I know. I'll be home in a couple of days. We'll lock the door and unplug the phone and ignore the world around us."

"But everyone wants to see you—" I protest.

"Don't care. They can wait. You're my wife—that's way more important than anything else. Our friends will just have to understand."

I snort. "Yeah, right. Have you met the people we know?"

"I know, I know. But maybe one day they'll fall in love so completely that they'll understand how it feels to need to be with the one person who makes you whole."

I feel my eyes fill with tears again, but for a completely different reason this time. "Maybe," I agree. "But I doubt it."

"Doesn't matter—I'm yours until we come up for air."

I reach under my pillow and pull out one of Chandler's t-shirts, tugging it over my head, and instantly feel surrounded by him—it's somewhat comforting. "I love you."

"I love you."

"Will you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?" I ask timidly. "If I can hear you breathing…"

"Of course." I hear him shift in his hotel room, settling down in to bed, and I follow suit, clutching his pillow to my chest. "You gonna be okay, Mon?"

I shrug, even though I know he can't see me. "Yeah. Just another couple of days, right?"

"Right."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, listening to him breathe in Tulsa.


	2. Chapter 2

I hold my wife close as we dance slowly, the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas" in the background, the only light in the room coming from the Christmas tree, casting everything in a soft, dreamy light. I feel her arms tighten around my shoulders as she sighs happily.

"I'm so happy you're home," she whispers, her breath tickling my ear.

"Me, too." Happy isn't enough right now, but it'll have to do. "Are you sure you're not mad that I quit?"

She leans back a little, looking me in the eye. "How could I be mad about that? You've never liked that job, and it took you away from me for months. All that matters to me is that you're happy. And now you're home, and that's the best gift I could have gotten."

I smile, leaning down to kiss her. "You're the best wife ever."

"And don't you forget it." She stands on tiptoes, kissing me again; for the first time in months, there's no rush. There's no time table, to planes to catch, just me and Monica together in our own little world.

Her lips finally release mine with another happy sigh, and she rests her head on my shoulder. I lay my cheek on the top of her head and give her a little squeeze as we continue to sway to the music.

"So how are you dealing with this?"

I shrug. "I don't think it's really sunk in yet. Maybe in a day or two I'll worry more about it. Right now, the only thing that matters to me is in my arms." I feel her breathing hitch for a moment and I'm instantly alert, preparing myself for an emotional onslaught. "You okay?"

"These last few months have been so hard," she whispers, her voice shaky, on the verge of tears. "I've missed you so much."

"I know, honey. I know. I'll never leave you again."

"You can't promise that."

"Well, I can promise that I never _want_ to leave you again. If it's a choice between a job and you, it's you. We've proven we can live apart if we have to; there's absolutely no need to do it again." I sigh, bringing my hands up to stroke her hair. "You're my whole world, Monica. If we can't be together, there's not much point, you know?"

"You're everything to me," I hear her breathe. "Everything. Until you, I never knew I could be around someone this much and still love them more at the end of the day than I did at the beginning." Her arms squeeze around my waist tightly. "Forever won't be long enough." She looks up at me again, unshed tears shining in her eyes. "I'm so glad you're home."

"It's the only place I want to be," I assure her.

I notice that the music has moved on to what sounds like Nat King Cole; his voice is good for slow dancing, too. "So, what exactly was it that prompted you to up and quit? Aside from missing me horribly, of course."

"It was something Wendy said, actually."

"Wendy, huh?"

"Yeah. After I told her how great you are, she asked why I was spending Christmas with her. I realized I didn't have a good reason. So I called up my boss—who was at home with her family, by the way—told her I was quitting, got my stuff from the hotel, and went to the airport to hope for a flight out."

"Well. That was nice of _Wendy._"

The edge in Monica's voice is razor-sharp, and a little startling. "You okay?" She nods, but her body is tense in my arms. I reach around my back, taking her hands in mine. "You know that I would never, _never_ cheat on you, right?"

She keeps her head down, avoiding my eyes. "Yeah…"

I place a finger under her chin, gently lifting her head so she has to look at me. "I mean it. I will never give you a reason to doubt my loyalty to you. Which is why I need to tell you…you weren't really wrong about Wendy."

Her eyes go wide as she jerks away from me. "What? Are you kidding me? You just told that you'd never cheat on me!"

I put my hands on my hips and wait. I know she's going to be mad, but I want her to be mad for the right reason. I also know that if I start denying too adamantly, she'll just think the worst.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Only if you're prepared to actually listen to me."

She opens her mouth to argue with me, but shuts it an instant later, choosing instead to flop down on the couch. I sit down on the coffee table in front of her, placing my hands on her knees. "Yes; Wendy was in to me. Yes; she hit on me. And that was as far as it went." I see her eyes fill with tears and I scramble over to the couch, gathering her in my arms. "Sweetie…"

She shakes her head, sniffling. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so upset. I know you wouldn't cheat on me. I just…it really bothers me that this woman would hit on a married man."

"A _married_ woman," I throw in.

"Even better," she groans. "She sounds like a real class-act. Remind me to scratch her eyes out if I ever meet her."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you, but I thought it would be worse if I didn't tell you this now."

She sighs and crawls on to my lap, straddling my thighs, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "I know I'm flying off the handle about this, and I know it's irrational, and really, I'm not mad at you. Just the thought of this other _woman_ throwing herself at you makes me physically ill. The prettiest woman in the state, no less."

"Second," I remind her.

"Yeah, that helps."

"If it makes you feel any better, I thought she was only 'eh.'"

I see a smile tug at her lips, though she fights it. "Really?"

"I've told you a million times, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. And I'm not just saying it to get you in to bed."

She chuckles softly and presses a quick kiss to my lips. "Oh, God, what's wrong with me?"

"You just get insanely jealous when someone lurks around your property," I tease, grabbing one of her hands and kissing her knuckles. She squinches up her face for a moment and my eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, my God. _Do you_ get insanely jealous when someone lurks around your property?"

"I don't know that if 'insanely' is the right word," she answers, rolling off my lap and heading in to the kitchen, needlessly shuffling through drawers and cabinets. "It just doesn't thrill me when I see women sniffing around you. I don't think that's such a crime."

I turn and lean over the back of the couch. "I guess I just never realized that women were that interested in me. You're the one that's a catch in this relationship. Wendy was a fluke."

"Oh, honey." She comes back over to me, arms outstretched, and I stand to meet her. "I wish you could see just how amazing you are. I know I tease you about it all the time, but I wasn't _that _drunk in London, and I certainly never stayed with you because I thought you were just 'all right.' Sure, on the surface you're handsome and adorable and can be incredibly sexy when you want to be, and that draws the attention of more women than I'm comfortable with, but when they get to know you and find out how sweet and sensitive and charming and romantic you are…well, you could cause a girl to ovulate."

"You're lying to me. But I'll take it."

She rolls her eyes as I wrap my arms around her. "Don't believe me. But next time we're out somewhere, pay attention to the number of dirty looks I give out. You'll be impressed."

I shake my head as we start swaying to the music again, and I know we're all right. It's been an eventful day; she's allowed to have a few moments of insanity. She cuddles in to the crook of my neck again, and the blissful feeling from earlier tonight resurfaces.

"I love you, Monica," I whisper. "Forever."

"I love you, too, Chandler," she answers, and I can feel her lips curling into a smile against my neck.

I stroke my hand up and down her spine a few times, feeling her shiver. "So, about that whole ovulating thing…"

"I won't be for another week or so, probably."

"Oh," I answer, a little disappointed. "Does that mean we can't have sex until then?"

"That's crazy talk. You just quit a job you hate and moved back home to me. I think that deserves a naked celebration. In fact…" She grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on the couch, pulling her shirt over her head a moment later. "Celebratory couch sex sounds good to me."

I bounce a little in glee, undoing a couple of buttons on my shirt before yanking it off over my head. Instantly, she's on me and I realize that she already has her skirt off. I hold her waist, stroking her sides gently as her hands work at my belt buckle. She yelps out triumphantly as the buckle submits to her will, the fly of my pants following shortly thereafter. She stands for a moment and I lift my hips, her fingers hooking in the waistband of my boxers as she pulls the rest of my clothes off. I watch, fascinated, as her underwear comes off faster than I've seen in a long time.

"Eager?" I ask, feeling a little cocky.

Instead of answering, she puts her hands next to my shoulders on the back of the couch and leans in so our faces are millimeters apart. I feel my heart accelerate as I actually watch her pupils dilate. All of these years together and we can still turn each other on instantly. I reach out and tickle her sides for a moment before giving her hips a gentle tug. She needs no further invitation before kneeling over me once more for a moment before she slides down on me slowly. My eyes roll back in my head as a loud groan escapes my lips. "Oh, God, Monica. I'm home."

"Yeah, you are," she whispers, moving against me gently. I refocus my eyes on her, taking in every inch possible—the freckles sprinkled across her chest, the line of her throat, her cute little chin, the delicate cheekbones, the freckles that cover her face but are usually covered up, her eyes.

Damn; her eyes. They're so intense, so full of life, so expressive. Any questions I need answered I can find by looking into her eyes. All of her moods are expressed through her eyes and the colors they change. The dark blue I see now is usually reserved for moments like this, when it's just the two of us and literally no barriers, when there is so much passion and love that we're usually rendered speechless.

I slide my hands slowly up her back, my fingers digging in to her soft flesh as they travel. She moans softly and leans in to kiss me, her hips speeding up a bit. My hands move up to her hair, cradling her head.

"Forever?" she whispers in to my mouth.

"At least," I breathe. "Longer, if possible."

She moans in agreement, her head lolling back slowly. I press my lips against her throat, breathing in her scent. My hands move back down to her hips, holding on tightly.

"I love you," she groans. "Love you."

"I love you, too," I answer against the skin of her shoulder.

"Never leave me again."

I grab her face with one hand, bringing her eyes back to me. "Never," I promise. "Never ever. You're stuck with me, baby."

She whimpers, biting her lip. "I'm so happy you're here."

She's said that to me countless times today, and each time sounds better than the last. Being so far apart has been a special brand of hell, one I hope never to repeat. This woman truly is everything to me; not being with her is the worst thing I can ever imagine.

Tears fill her eyes as our hips move together, but I know they're happy tears. I smile at her softly, trying to keep the hand that's on her cheek gentle as the fingers on my other hand dig in to her hip, pulling her against me faster, harder.

"Chandlerrrrr," she moans, loudly, and my hips move faster in response.

"C'mon, baby," I encourage, leaning in to kiss her again.

"Almost," she groans. "Almost."

I tear my lips from hers, moving down to her breasts, taking one in my mouth, knowing it will put her over the edge in moments.

She doesn't disappoint.

Suddenly, she's bucking against me wildly, breathing heavily. "Ohhhhhhhhhh yessssssss. YESYESYESYESYES!"

I smile around her breast for a moment, still amazed, after all this time, that I can make her feel these things, before my mouth goes slack, pushing against her quickly, sloppily as I tumble over the edge with her.

She's stroking my hair softly as I come back to her, my face still buried in her chest, my breath coming in gasps. I drag my lips slowly up until my face rests in the crook of her neck, wrapping my arms around her waist, her own arms wrapping tightly around me.

We say nothing, just enjoy being together, wrapped in each other. I feel her shiver and grab the blanket off the back of the couch, pulling it around us. I stroke her back softly as her body relaxes; I can tell she's drifting off. We should get up and go to our room, but this moment is so peaceful, so perfect, that I can't bring myself to care.

My head drifts back as my eyes fall shut, and I feel Monica cuddle in to me, getting comfortable, sighing in her sleep.

For the first time in months, I feel myself relax completely, and I know that regardless of where we sleep tonight, it will be more restful than it has been in forever. Knowing that I don't have to leave in a few days, that I'm home for good.

My wife is in my arms, and I'm home.

*A/N….this was just going to be a quickie. I swear. Then I mentioned couch sex, and it was all downhill from there. I knew that if I mentioned couch sex and didn't follow through, you wonderful weirdos would ask for a follow up, and me being who I am, I would have had to write it, so I just saved us all a few steps. Also, I want to apologize for this being, overall, not really up to par. I'm not sure if I have writer's block, or if I have so many ideas about little pieces of things that I'm feeling overwhelmed. So you guys may wind up getting some ficlets while I try to get my thoughts together. It's not easy producing a fic a day, even though I'm the one pressuring myself to do that, not you guys. It'll be okay, though. Just stick with me.


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